


Slightly Haunted

by perletwo



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-29
Updated: 2007-01-29
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perletwo/pseuds/perletwo
Summary: Two people are having a slight ghosty problem. Post-Chosen. PG-13





	Slightly Haunted

One thing you had to say about Xander Harris, Giles thought, he'd got  
plenty of energy. Giles, seeing everything as he did through an  
academic lens, tended to dismiss him as a slacker. Physically,  
though, he was full of loose-limbed vigor as a boy and had channeled  
that into skilled handiwork as an adult.

Certainly, it now occurred to Giles as he watched from the table,  
turn the boy loose in a too-small kitchen and he became a whirling  
dervish. He rattled the newspaper in his hands in irritation, but  
Xander didn't seem to take the hint.

Nor did he seem to notice the third figure crowding into the kitchen  
as he kept up his steady stream of light chatter.

"Oh, don't purse up your lips like that, Giles. They'll freeze that  
way. And if you think you're uncomfortable, remember that I used to  
live with this. At least I got orgasms out of the bargain!" it said,  
leaning over the back of his chair.

{{I am not answering back to that,}} Giles thought tightly. {{You are  
nothing but a figment of my imagination.}}

The Anya-apparition just shrugged. "Okay then. I'll just stand  
here...unwelcome..." it sighed dramatically. "Don't mind me. I'm used  
to it, after all. You just go on with your - " It leaned closer to  
peer at the newspaper. "-- reading of the Help Wanteds? Being the  
entire Watcher's Council isn't enough? Oh! Hey, look here -- you and  
Xander could open up a 7-11 franchise together! It'd be just like the  
good old days -- you'd provide the expertise, and Xander could provide  
the personality!"

"Now just a minute!" Giles blustered, then checked himself.

"Hmm? Somethin' the matter, G-Man?" Xander turned to look at him over  
his shoulder, still apparently oblivious to the Anya-ish...thing  
behind his chair.

"Oh-oh, nothing - just, just something in the paper." He pulled off  
his glasses and gave the boy a watery smile, and Xander turned his  
attention back to the sandwich he was building.

{{Now listen,}} Giles thought sternly at the Anya-esque being. {{If  
you are a manifestation of the First Evil, I'm not about to be taken  
in by --}}

The grip of a cool, dry hand over his bare forearm stopped all  
thought. He looked away from the thin hand on his arm, up into deep  
chocolate-brown eyes.

"I am as real as you need me to be," Anya said, and Giles had to  
remind himself to breathe. She stepped closer to his chair to allow  
Xander room to pass.

"Seeya G-man! Been real!" he called on his way out the door, plate  
and drink in hand. Giles made a noncommittal sound in his throat in  
reply, never taking his eyes from the ghost standing next to him.

"He's mistaken," Giles said in a thin voice. "This-this isn't real a-  
at all. It *can't* be."

Anya smiled. "I hardly see why not. After all, you've encountered  
ghosts before...haven't you?"

"Y-yes but...but there are *rules,* laws of metaphysics..." Without  
thinking or even noticing, he took her hand in his. "Ghosts are tied  
to a-a certain place, or a person, or a specific set of events that  
caused them deep spiritual trauma, usually related to their...their  
deaths...But you..."

"Yes?"

"You...died...far from here, and while I-I can only imagine-there was  
pain...you rather expected it, being as you were in-in *that* place,  
at *that* time for the purpose you were..."

Anya smiled. "Well, that rules out places and events. What does that  
leave us with, then?"

"Bu-but - why *me?* If you're truly a-a-a ghost, why haunt me? Why  
wouldn't you appear to Xander? Your closest emotional ties were to  
him, after all. Why isn't he able to *see* you at least?"

"Dunno. Ask yourself -- I *am* a figment of your imagination after  
all, right?" She gave him another shrug. "Maybe it's because Xander's  
comfortable with his grief? Or because he can grieve openly, us  
having been officially almost-married? Or -- I know. Maybe it's  
because we'd put most of our unfinished business to rest before I  
died? We knew we were most likely to die in the last battle, so we  
said all the things we needed to say to each other beforehand."

She knelt down beside Giles' chair, and he felt the whole  
considerable force of Anya's personality focus on him. "Were there  
things left unspoken between *us,* Giles?" she whispered.

A flood of images filled his mind, tumbling one after another --  
himself in another time-space dimension, smashing an amulet of power;  
Anya's high-school self facing down Vampire Willow at the Bronze; a  
ridiculous full-body bunny-rabbit costume; joining them, in her  
inimitable fashion, to stand up to Tara's father; hundreds of tiny  
shared moments at the Magic Box, a look or a quip or a mutual laugh;  
the pride on her face when Xander announced their engagement, which  
only he seemed really to notice; their brief spell-  
induced 'engagement;' resisting the impulse to kiss her again when  
she threw her arms around him at the airport; Anya batting her lashes  
at him when he reappeared to face Willow; ministering to him in the  
ruins of their shop; the thing that nearly crumbled inside him when  
he overheard Andrew telling Xander of her death.

That thing crumbled completely at last under the spotlight of her  
gaze, and he put his face in his hands and wept bitter, grief-filled  
tears.

When at last he lifted his head, he found himself alone in the  
kitchen. He sat there still for a long time, trying to master his  
harsh breathing.

"This cannot be real," he said in a shaky voice. "The literature -- s-  
surely I'd have heard of such encounters -- "

{{Sure you have,}} whispered a feminine voice in his head. {{How  
d'you know this isn't what they mean by keeping someone you love  
alive in your heart?}}

Giles pondered that for a long moment, then reached again for his  
glasses. He rose on hollow legs and walked blindly out of the  
kitchen, through the living room (where he ignored Xander's chatter  
about the ballgame on telly) and up the stairs toward his room. A  
faint echo of female laughter followed his leaden footsteps.

He stopped short on the landing, just as he was about to pass the  
open door to Buffy's bedroom. Buffy's voice, raised to a familiar,  
particular pitch of frustration, reached his ears.

"- now LISTEN, you -- you -- SMUG -- know-it-all -- bleached-blond -- no-  
fashion-sense -- OOOHHH! Who do you think you ARE to-to-to come in  
here and start telling me what I should and shouldn't do -- after  
you've gone and DIED on me no less -- "

"Buffy?"

She stopped jabbing a finger at the empty air in front of her and  
spun to face the door at the sound of Giles' voice. The stricken look  
on her face told him everything he needed to know.

"Oh Buffy." She stiffened when Giles threw his arms around her, then  
relaxed into the hug, fighting down sobs. "I had no idea," he said as  
he rocked her. "I promise, until tonight I had no idea..."

Whether he meant about her feelings or his own he could not say,  
Giles thought as he looked over at the ghostly blonde leaning against  
the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, a half-smile set off  
by an eyebrow cocked knowingly.

 

The End


End file.
